


Scorpius Malfoy and The Ferrymans Mark

by GulJeri



Series: Scorpius Malfoy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GulJeri/pseuds/GulJeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Astoria and Draco Malfoy could not conceive, Astoria takes drastic measures to make sure she gets her son. Her choice will haunt young Scorpius as he sets off to his first year at Hogwarts...not knowing that he is marked and was promised to a madman who was supposed to have been killed years ago. Next gen: Year 1. Scorp/Al friendship for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Long Expected Party

It's going to be a long story, but I'm very excited. I hope you'll follow me in this adventure. Characters are property of J K Rowling. I do not own.

-x-

Scorpius Malfoy and the Ferryman's Mark

"Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry.  
Mama's gonna make all your nightmares come true."

-Pink Floyd

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-

Dec. 31, 2006

In 1685 it had snowed in London every day for five weeks. The Thames itself had frozen over, and the mess did not fully clear up until mid-April. Not to be outdone was the winter of 2006. In Whiltshire the snow was blanketed and banked in a way that England rarely knew. Villages, towns, and cities were shut down and floundering in the winter storm of Biblical proportions. December 31 marked the last day in a seven week period of constant snowfall, and it was also upon this evening that Astoria Malfoy rose cumbersomely from a family heirloom double-Windsor settee, circa 1705. Her knees went weak when she rose, and the silk material of her elaborate dressing gown was heavy: the filigree fabric of the settee bore a dark patch. The baby was coming, and Draco was in London, his license to Apparate revoked after he had Apparated one too many times while soused. This left the patriarch of Malfoy Manor snowbound on the night his son would be born.

Astoria fell to her knees, screaming in agony as the spasms of labor racked her body. Behind her the fireplace crackled warmly, but the air in the room had gone chill. Astoria screamed again, calling out for her midwife. She could hear the hurried click of heeled boots over marble, and in her line of vision, hot cheek pressed to the cold floor, she saw the pointed black tips appear and a flutter of skirt. The walls of the Manor seemed to quake and undulate around Astoria as the pains continued at regular intervals. The midwife transfigured an ancient Egyptian urn into a simple bowl, and filled it with water from the tip of her wand, then brought the water to boil with a simple spell. She stroked the ringlets of hair back from Astoria's sweaty brow, and urged her to focus on breathing.

Astoria looked at the woman, noticing one towel hung over her shoulder, and another tucked into her apron. Her eyes rolled deliriously as the pains continued coming closer, and closer together.

The walls seemed to breath in a hiss that tickled coolly up and down her spine, twisting around it in spirals of fear, and panic. Her heart was thundering. She could feel the blood in her veins stampeding at the pulse points at her wrists, and on either side of her pale, slender, neck. Vaguely she heard the midwife attempting to calm her, but she was being caught in the throws and flashes of a chain of memories that had led to this very moment.

\--

"When, Draco!" Astoria screamed, brandishing her wand at her husband in a tearful rage. She was nearing her wits end with this particular problem, and she was growing to hate the man who was bound to leave her childless.

"I don't know!" Draco held his hands palms out in front of him, in a placating gesture. "We can't rush—"

"Rush?" Astoria exclaimed, unbelieving. "Rush? We have been trying to conceive for YEARS..." Tears rolled down Astoria's flushed cheeks, her eyes glittered brightly.

They knew the problem was in Draco. They had been to Mediwitches and Healers all over the UK, had tried various fertility charms, and potions, but nothing seemed to work for him. One Healer had been rather blunt, telling the couple that Draco was simply sterlie and there was nothing magic could do for it. Astoria had screamed a screech that could have rivaled the most furious rant of Draco's Great Aunt Walburga. Astoria had been physically escorted from the premises for hexing the Healer who had such audacity to say that horrible thing to her face.

The more Astoria and Draco tried, the worse the situation became. These days Draco could hardly become aroused by her. He claimed that intercourse only reminded him more of his failure, and thus it became a frustrating revolving door of trying, and failing. Astoria blamed the Malfoy and Blacks' inbreeding, sleeping with that harlot Parkinson in school (which Draco fervently denied), Draco's adoption of The Dark Mark, his abuse of Firewhiskey, and any other fantasy that came to her so she could vent her rage onto him.

Draco always looked so pathetically wounded after their verbal duels, which Astoria always won. She knew that in the end Draco had no balls—figuratively and literally, apparently—and he would always back down to her with his head bowed and shoulders slouched, like a kicked puppy.

Astoria flew past her husband in a flurry of velvet sleeping robes and tears. The walls had began their sighing as she careened drunkenly with her grief and anger down various corridors. She heard the sighs and whispers more and more lately, as if something inside the stone walls was trying to reach out to her. Her nails dragged along the smooth surface, now and then bumping old family portraits, sending them askew, and their occupants cursing and stumbling within the elaborate golden frames.

She made her way down to the dungeons beneath the house where she felt furthest away from her worthless husband and his failings. She collapsed onto the dirty stone floor, and wept among the shadows. The whispers and sighs were all around her now, hissing, caressing, threading in and out of her, speaking to her strongest desire;

Promise to me...and I will awaken your child.

She clutched her stomach where inside Draco's useless seed filled her, still sticky upon her thighs, the smell of him still on her and it made her feel sick.

Promise to me...and I will awaken your child.

Above Astoria's curled form there hovered the mirage of a child: ivory skinned with tiny kicking feet, hands balled into fists beneath his pointed chin, hair which was almost the color of fallen snow. He opened his eyes at her, and she saw that they were soft and gray like the down of fog kissing the edge of a frosted winter field.

Her lips trembled and her hands quaked as she reached out for her child, but he turned in on himself, into a swirling mist.

"No!" Astoria sobbed.

Promise him to me...

"Who are you!"

The mist reformed into a familiar symbol; one which her husband kept locked away beneath his shirtsleeve.

Astoria wriggled away from the skull and its sickly protruding serpent tongue.

If you wish to hold your deepest desire...then you must share it...or your desire will remain unsated.

No. He was her son. He was her child. Astoria squeezed her eyes closed against a sob, and her fingernails raked over her scalp. All other options had been exhausted, and she would not be childless. She wanted her son, and she would have him.

"Yes," She whispered, the word tremulous on the stale dungeon air. "Yes..."

Deep inside of her a heat began to build, winding, winding, tightening...

"Yes...yes, yes, yes!"

Her toes curled, and her hands grabbed hold of bits of rubble and dirt upon the floor, her head whipping side to side in the hot building hum of her womanhood coming to the greatest completetion she had ever known-

"YES!" Astoria cried, her back bowing up from the floor, mouth agape, nails broken against the stone floor. For what seemed like hours Astoria lay staring through her eyelashes at he dungeon ceiling, gasping, two syllables over and over;

My son, my son, my son...

\--

"My...son..." Astoria said weakly, as the child was settled into her arms.

"He's smaller than I imagined, but he seems healthy enough," the midwife spoke with a smile in her voice. "Though thought we'd lost you, m'dear. It's good to have you back, love."

The midwife stroked Astoria's snarled hair out of her face, but Astoria hardly felt it. She was too busy staring down at her perfect little boy curled new, and naked, in her embrace. The only flaw upon his milky skin was the smallest mark just in the center of his chest: no larger than a fingernail sliver of moon hung over a dot of ink.

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-

Scorpius was a blessing to his parents, and brought an end to his father's struggle with drinking. The boy was the light of Draco and Astoria's life, and it was their love for him, rather than each other, which held their marriage and family together through even the rockiest of times.

Scorpius grew up wanting for nothing. His parents were both of old money, and there was nothing too lavish for their long awaited child. Though Draco spoiled the boy as equally as Astoria did, Draco was dead set on raising his son in a better manner than he had been. Draco knew all to well the pressure of an only heir to a high society pureblood family, and he did not want his Scorpius growing up into a man created by the rules and pressures of status and blood. He wanted his son to have choices, not a predestined mold that he must wedge himself into, for fear of letting his family down, as Draco and no doubt countless other pureblood children had been victim to.

The differences in parenting led to many parental fights behind closed doors. Astoria was sure she had married an upstanding pureblood man, and that very man was bringing Muggle children's books into the Manor, was not impressing upon his son how important blood purity was, did not dissuade his child from playing with improper children, and allowed the boy to dress in whatever way he wanted. Astoria insisted Scorpius wear proper robes out in public, she checked his room twice a week for anything 'inappropriate' though she did not know that Draco and Scorpius had a secret hiding place for their special Muggle things. Nor did Astoria know that her husband made a habit of taking their son to Muggle London at least once a month for an outing.

She might have been jealous over the bond Draco and Scorpius shared, if the boy did not hold her in similar esteem. He seemed to be drawn towards things which were pretty, elegant, soft, and feminine. Astoria had been surprised when Draco did not mind nor try to change this trait in his son. The only family member to voice concern was one of the family portraits of a petite but fiery Malfoy called Abraxas: he had been Draco's grandfather, and he had enough to say about the softness of his great-grandson. Abraxas often glared down his hawkish nose, past his half-moon spectacles, at the toe-headed boy and threatened to march out of his portrait frame, and take the boy on safari, teach him martial arts, or how to wield a fierce looking bullwhip that was most likely longer than Abraxas was tall. Of course the offended great-grandfather was incapable of doing such a thing.

Instead of learning how to fence with his great-grandfather's favorite sword—a fine goblin made sword obtained from a high ranking officer Abraxas had captured and killed during WWII—Scorpius could be found at a small table with his mother, in front of a large window overlooking the Manor's beautiful blooming gardens, where the peacocks strutted lazily among blossoms. The two of them would play cards and have a snack of finger sandwiches brought by Smirky, the house elf, or they might play wizard's chess with Astoria's custom made chess set: One side fashioned of white diamonds set in rose gold, the opposing the rarer pink diamonds set in white gold. If neither of these pass times were in view, then it would be a tea party. Scorpius still willingly attended them with his mother though he was nearing eleven years old. He enjoyed the view of the gardens, the regal birds, the warmth of the tea, and the fine feel of the china in his slender fingers.

He sat across from his mother on the day of his eleventh birthday. Between them was a polished silver tea set with matching cups and saucers made of the lightest blue English bone china, covered with dainty white vines and blossoms, and silver-dipped rims. His mother seemed distracted, but he assumed it was because of his birthday. Eleven years old was quite the landmark for a young wizard. At any moment he could receive his owl from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

In the grand hall Smirky and a team of house elves were busy preparing for Master Scorpius' big day. Afternoon his friends and family would arrive to celebrate, and everything must be perfect. Scorpius was quite surprised that his mother had not been hovering about the elves all day, supervising the decorating, cooking, and gift-wrapping. Rather than overseeing them she had been sticking close to her son. He thought that it must be that she was considering the fall when he would board the Hogwarts Express and leave her and father alone in the Manor. Scorpius curled his pink lips round his teacup, and properly sipped from it.

"Are you certain you feel well enough?" Astoria asked her son, tugging a ringlet of dark hair around her finger.

"Yes mother, I feel fine," He answered, giving her small smile, and reaching for an almond hazelnut biscuit—his personal favorite.

His mother was asking how he felt because Scorpius had suffered from what his mother called 'a weak heart' since he could ever remember. She had taken him to several Healers throughout his childhood, and he even remembered father secretly taking him to a Muggle doctor when the Healers failed to find cause or cure. The machines they used to study him had been interesting to Scorpius, and in the end, he was diagnosed with something called an 'arrhythmia'. Arrhythmia simply meant that his heart did not beat correctly. Father had Smirky deliver the Muggle medication to Scorpius each morning before he left his room, as to keep Astoria in the dark, but it had never helped and Scorpius had long ago discontinued them. The tiny pills had only succeeded in making Scorpius lethargic.

His mother gave him a small nod at his confirmation, and gazed out the window nervously, watching the birds strut.

"What would you like for your birthday, dear?" Astoria asked, distractedly stirring her tea and making a soft jingling sound.

"The best broomstick on the market!" Scorpius exclaimed straight away.

"Scorpius!"

"I know. I'm too young to try out for Quidditch, and I can't anyway. It would be too much excitement."

His mother was always dutiful about keeping him from 'too much excitement' as she feared for his condition.

"I just think flying would be grand. Don't you think flying's grand, Mum?"

Astoria sniffed.

"I never liked it much, to tell you the truth. I believe it is highly overrated, as is Quidditch."

Scorpius gave her a rather serious look, and helped himself to another biscuit. If he couldn't have a broom, or experience flying, he was at least going to indulge his sweet tooth. His mother would not protest that.

"And father will be home later?" Scorpius asked after finishing off his third biscuit.

"Of course. Your father is far from perfection, but he would never miss your birthday—oh!"

The family owl swooped low over their heads, and dropped the post into Astoria's lap. The owl settled onto Scorpius' shoulder, and nuzzled the boy affectionately. Scorpius shared a biscuit with her in return.

"Is it here?" Scorpius asked eagerly, as his mother riffled through the post. She finally stopped, and the two locked eyes. Wordlessly she passed the envelope across the table. Scorpius tore into the letter, and forgetting his manners he leaned onto the table with his elbows as he read the entire letter aloud.

Scorpius leaped from his chair in excitement, and hugged his mother tightly.

"My Hogwarts letter!"

"Yes dear...now, please settle down and finish your tea-"

"Smirky!" Scorpius shouted, paying no attention to his mother who was now attempting to reign him in by the back strap of his waistcoat. Scorpius' magic caused the buttons to burst and fly off in all directions, and the seams unraveled, leaving his waistcoat in scraps upon the floor. He would apologize to his mother in a moment but not now—he was far too ecstatic.

Scorpius ran to the grand hall, waving his Hogwarts letter above his head.

"Master Scorpius!" Smirky chirped worriedly, wringing his nobby hands. "Master Scorpius must be calming himself lest he makes himself ill!"

"My letter!" Scorpius panted, kneeling and holding the letter up in front of the elf's bulbous nose.

"Yes Master Scorpius," Smirky nodded eagerly to please his Master. "It is being a wonderful letter, Sir. Now Master Scorpius must sit down! He isn't to be excited and is not to be seeing the great hall until it is time!"

Smirky glanced around anxiously at the hall which was in various stages of decoration.

"Smirky is hoping it will be so perfect for Master," The elf peeked at Scorpius' flushed face, and bit at his lip.

"Scoripus," Astoria stormed over to her son, who was now sitting due to the urging of several house elves who had pushed one of the dining chairs towards him. "Do not...you know better than this." Astoria smoothed her son's hair back from his forehead.

"I'm fine," Scorpius lied, his gesture of habit giving him away, when he placed one hand against his chest. He realized his mistake when his mother's eyes grew wide and alarmed. "Only a little flutter!" He confessed, but Astoria would have none of it. She took him gently by the wrist, and snatched the letter from him.

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, you go to your room and rest for the remainder of the day. Smirky will come get you and help you with your new robes when it is time to come down for your party."

Scorpius pouted, but he knew this was one matter where his Malfoy pout would not sway her. He couldn't possibly be too disappointed anyway: after all, he did have his letter. He would spend the day sending owls back and forth with Al Potter, and soon enough the time would pass, and Smirky would show up to fuss over him.

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-

Smirky did help Master with his fanciest robes. Mother and Scorpius had chosen them just for the occasion, and had them perfectly tailored. It was Astoria who preferred the tradition of robes, despite the fact that robes and formal wizdaring wear had been on a decline in popularity—save among the elite—for many years now. Scorpius enjoyed Muggle clothing, and wizarding robes, but he would never be caught wearing something as basic and boring as a t-shirt and jeans. Scorpius liked to look well put together, and well groomed.

His ensemble was an icy blue with delicate silver and gold brocade. He had chosen it, and both his mother and the tailor had approved. He knew the colors brought out his pale features, and especially his eyes. The tailor had told Scorpius that he had quite the refined tastes for a young boy, and Scorpius took the compliment proudly.

Smirky helped Master Scorpius with all the buttons and fasteners. The cool silk of the shirt felt soft and fine against his skin, and the minute glitter of gold and silver design on the waistcoat and matching outer robe was just perfect and subtle. His hair was combed back from his face in a look that his father had advised him to enjoy while he had the time—given that Scorpius had inherited his father's high hairline which would begin to recede at a ridiculously young age.

Scorpius gave himself one final look over in his full-length mirror. He knew his friends would not be dressed as fancy as he was, but if his mother wouldn't allow him to run around and play many of their games with them, then he would enjoy his high fashion anyway.

His family and friends were waiting for him in the hall, and Scorpius greeted Al eagerly, giving him a hug straight away. Astoria said it wasn't appropriate for boys their age to be hug as greeting—they should shake hands—but Scorpius didn't care about his mother's opinion on that particular matter.

"Happy birthday, tosser," James Potter smirked, reaching down to muss up Scorpius' hair.

"Don't you dare!" Scorpius exclaimed, deftly dodging James' teasing.

"Such a priss," James said flippantly, looking Scorpius up and down. "No one wears robes like that anymore, save rich folks with silver spoons up their arses."

"I don't have anything up my arse..." Scorpius stated. "And you shouldn't wear red with your complexion. It brings out the blemishes."

James looked down at his red jumper, and then touched his face. Scorpius and Al grinned at one another, and walked away from James to carry on their own conversation. Al chuckled softly.

"Only you would call zits 'blemishes', you know?" Al gave Scorpius a small smile. "But that was pretty brilliant. James hates the outbreaks, and Mum hasn't yet gone to the apothecary to refill our stock of bubotuber puss."

"Good, I like seeing him suffer," Scorpius smirked. "He's a git."

"Yes, but he's my brother anyway," Al shrugged. "So...you're sure you'll get sorted into Slytherin?" Al rubbed the back of his neck nervously. His plastic blue framed glasses slipped down on his nose.

"Yes," Scorpius said, stopping to admire a long table which was overflowing with ornately wrapped packages for him. "My Mum and Dad's family have always been Sorted into Slytherin."

"And mine have always been sorted into Gryffindor," Al said, though Scorpius was well aware. "I don't want us to be separated. I've been thinking of asking Dad what he would think if I didn't get sorted into Gryffindor...I've heard the Sorting hat lets you have a bit of a say in it."

Scorpius stopped, staring at Al. He took Al's hands in his.

"You would do that for me?"

Al nodded slowly.

"I think so. I'm sort of nervous about going, aren't you? I mean my brother already has a reputation there and I'm not outgoing and fun like him. Then there's my Dad...practically the greatest Gryffindor ever and I'm just...not..." Al took a deep breath, and let it out. "I'm just not them."

"I wouldn't want you to be them," Scorpius said quietly, giving Al's hands a reassuring squeeze. "I think you're wonderful."

He let go of Al's hands, and left the boy sporting a pinkish blush as Scorpius left to great Rose and the rest of the Weasley clan. Astoria was off at a distance with her family and friends, turning her nose up at the Weasley's and Potter's. She had once told Scorpius that it literally made her skin crawl to be in the same room as them. Scorpius had over the years been very adamant that they were his friends—especially Al. The two had formed a tight bond at very young age—ever since that damned day Draco had invited the Potter's over for dinner without Astoria's consent. Scorpius had been merely three years old at the time, but he and Al had gone together just like a pair of socks. Scorpius knew that his mother could not refuse him his friends, as he was already so overprotected due to his condition, but he had come to the conclusion that she would forever remain in corners, glaring down her nose, and silently cursing them no matter what.

Scorpius also knew that his father and Mr. and Mrs Potter, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, had once been enemies. Since Scorpius had been old enough to recall, he had never seen much trace of this except that Mr. Weasley and his father still tended to get into heated arguments, though neither seemed to hold a grudge much longer than a month before shaking hands and moving on. Mr. Potter and his father, on the other hand, seemed very comfortable together. He looked around for them and took note of them in a corner away from the clumps of people who were mingling. They stood close together, heads bent a bit towards one another. His father was casually sipping a flute of champagne, while Mr. Potter kept rubbing at the scar on his forehead. Mr. Potter's hand dropped, and slid gently over the back of his fathers, and rested there for a moment.

Scorpius saw nothing wrong with such touches. He had noticed them shared between his father and Mr. Potter long ago, when the two men thought no one was looking. Scorpius however, had a knack for noticing things he wasn't meant to.

"Happy birthday, mate," Hugo greeted, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yes, happy birthday," Lily echoed, smiling.

Scorpius began to thank them, but Hugo cut across him.

"Now that that's done with, let's go out to the gardens and play tag! We can go into the shrub maze!" Hugo made to take off, but Rose grabbed him by the ear.

"Not so fast," She said, as Hugo squirmed. "I think we ought to play Gobbstones. It's too cold to be running 'round in some ridiculous maze."

Lily and Hugo sat down on the floor obediently, and Rose gave Scorpius a knowing look. He returned her kindness with a smile—sincerely thankful that she was a smart girl and had taken care of the situation perfectly. Gobbstones was one game that Scorpius was not banned from by his mother, and he sat down to play against Hugo, and Al sat down across from his sister.

Rose passed out her collection of Gobbstones and used a piece of magical chalk to draw the circles on the polished floor—circles which would automatically disappear without a trace once the games were finished.

The teams began with Rose overseeing them like a mini-mother. Soon Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had appeared too, and were hovering over their brood, taking in the competition.

"You better kick Malfoy's arse, Hugo," Ron said, and Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, causing him to spill punch down the front of his jumper.

After much mingling, and a few more games of Gobbstones among the children, it was time for dinner. After dinner it was time for Scorpius' birthday cake. It took the entire team of house elves to bring it into the hall, and a lot of scowling from Mrs. Granger, Scorpius noticed.

"In just a few minutes," Astoria announced, placing her hands on her sons' shoulders. "It will be the exact moment eleven years ago that my beautiful baby boy was born."

There was polite clapping, and nodding, from most of the group though the snort from Ron did not go unnoticed. Astoria continued.

"He has been quite the blessing to us, and I thank..." Astoria seemed as if she was trying not to grimace as she looked at the Weasley's. "All of you for coming to the Manor to celebrate my Scorpius. Now Scorpius dear, I want you to blow out your candles at the exact moment..."

All eyes were trained upon the grandfather clock at the front of the hall. Draco stood on the other side of Scorupius, resting his hand at the small of the boys back. Scorpius watched the hands move, and in the complete quietness of the room, he could hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock. His heart seemed to link with that cadence. Tick, tick, tick. The little flutter from earlier was back, but this time Scorpius was aware not to give the trivial matter away by placing his hand to his chest. He kept his hands to his sides, twitching, feeling the beat of his heart echo the tick of the clock.

Both the clock and his heart seemed to be speeding up. Thump-thump-thump—and then a tight squeeze that made Scorpius gasp—and then back to the quickening thumps. Scorpius focused on his breathing, and the hands of the clock, trying to ignore the sweat that was breaking out on his skin and was crawling coldly down his back.

The hands on the clock were spinning faster, making him dizzy. Thump-thump-thump-SQUEEZE. No, not now! The squeezing sensation hurt, and took his breath away. Scorpius pressed his hand to his chest, glad that everyone was so focused on the clock they didn't notice. He knew it would pass momentarily—it always did. But he felt so shaky, and the hands were making him dizzy, and his heart just kept pounding faster and faster. He couldn't even hear the ticking clock anymore, just the swoosh in his ears.

"Now!" Astoria proclaimed brightly.

Scorpius took a big breath to blow out his candles, and lurched forward with a sob of pain, both hands pressed to the center of his chest. He was dimly aware of chaos beginning around him, but it seemed as though everyone else was moving behind a veil. The pain was horrible, like nails digging into his heart and squeezing with every beat. He couldn't breath, and he felt his legs melt beneath him, though he didn't feel like he had fallen. Vaguely he remembered that his parents were near, and his father had probably caught him and lowered him to the floor. Over the woosh in his ears, and the thundering plod of his pulse, Scorpius heard his name:

Scorpiussssss...my boy...

He didn't recognize the voice, and the high pitched laughter that followed chilled him to the bone, and sent the gray around the edges of his vision to blackness.

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-


	2. Silver and Green

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-

When Scorpius came to he was curled up in his soft bed beneath a layer of covers. Al was sitting on the bed with Scorpius, his legs tucked beneath him, holding onto Scorpius hand. Draco was sitting in a chair next to Scorpius bed, and he reached forward to stroke a stray lock of blond off of Scorpius forehead. Astoria was sitting in a corner of the room with her nails between her teeth, while Harry hovered nearby, now and then touching his scar which Scorpius had learned was a nervous habit of his.

“Good to see you again,” Draco said. “How are you feeling, son?”

Scorpius curled his fingers around Al's.

“I feel alright,” Scorpius answered, and Draco adjusted the pillows so Scorpius could sit up against them. 

Smirky came stumbling in over his feet with a cup and saucer, tea sloshing over the rim.

“Master Scorpius!” The elf exclaimed, his normally buggy eyes even buggier. “Smirky has made Master's favorite tea, and in the morning Smirky will be making Master's favorite blackberry pancakes and Smirky will bring them to Master in his bed! Master must rest, oh Master must be so careful and drink his tea! Smirky will take care of Master and Master's friend,” Smirky nodded to Al, and tugged at his ears. “Anything Master wants Smirky may get it quick quick!”

Scorpius dutifully took his tea, and smiled down at the elf. Smirky always carried on so when Master Scorpius was ill.

“Thank you Smirky, the tea is wonderful, and I feel fine. I look forward to the blackberry pancakes; you must make the best in all of England.”

“Oh, Master is so kind! Too kind to Smirky, Master is!” The elf bowed so low his nose bumped the floor, and then he scurried away.

“Do you feel well enough to open your gifts?” Draco asked, knowing well the answer.

“Yes!” Scorpius replied eagerly.

The mountain of gifts was stacked on the floor now Scorpius' bed, and Draco levitated the enormous pile so they were on top of the bed, threatening to topple over and bury Al. The scene made Draco chuckle, as Al looked warily to the wobbly stacks.

Al carefully removed wrapped boxes, and decorated bags, placing each item in Scorpius' lap so the boy could tear into them and reveal what was inside. Ever since he was very small Scorpius had longed to spy a long, thin, package beneath the Christmas tree, or amongst his stacks of birthday gifts, though he knew it would never come to pass. He still allowed himself to entertain the thought of being gifted with a broom—shiny, new, glossy, and perfect—he would polish it every day if he owned a broom. It would be his most prized possession.

There was no broom, but he he thoroughly enjoyed his other gifts. He had laughed because one of the gifts from Draco was a Slytherin pendant which was enchanted to wave when hung upon the wall, as if wafted by a breeze. What was funny about the matter was that another present (this one from Harry) revealed the same type of pendant, only in Gryffindor colors with the lion proudly shaking his mane. Harry and Draco were just as amused, though Astoria curled her nose in the corner. 

“Perhaps I'll defy you both, and become a Ravenclaw,” Scorpius said. “Though if I have a say so in it, I'll certainly be Sorted into Slytherin. This one...” Scorpius held up the Gryffindor pendant. “Smirky might enjoy as a decoration in his nest.”

The Malfoy's and Potter's had another good round of laughter at that.

“The nerve of giving my son a Gryffindor pendant,” Draco said sounding perturbed, but his smile gave him away. At one point in time he would have been thoroughly offended by the idea, but maturity and certain other things—rather people—he looked at Scorpius, then to Harry—had caused him to mellow a bit.

Scorpius had a feeling that on Al's birthday, which was merely weeks apart from his own, that his friend would receive a Slytherin pendant from Scorpius' father in repayment.

All in all it was a good birthday, despite passing out and...that voice. Scorpius remembered the voice, high like a wailing wind, eerie, and calling his name in snake-like hiss. Scorpius took a deep breath, and shoved the sound to the back of his mind. The last thing he needed was for his parents to think he was going mental along with his other health problems. They'd never let him go to Hogwarts then. It had been battle enough already, as Astoria had wanted to hire tutors to teach Scorpius so he didn't have to go away for school. She and Draco had long discussions about it. Scorpius knew because he often listened in when he shouldn't, lurking at the door, or using an extendable ear that he'd bought on one of their trips to Diagon Alley. 

His mother feared that being at Hogwarts would prove too much excitement for Scorpius and only aggravate his condition. Draco on the other had was more sensible. Though he agreed there were some things Scorpius shouldn't do, attending Hogwarts was not one of them. Draco wanted Scorpius to be as normal as possible, and keeping Scorpius out of school was not something Draco approved of. He had assured Astoria that special arrangements would be made for Scorpius: he would have to check in regularly with Madame Pomphrey so she could examine him. He would be allowed to carry vials of calming draught in his satchel at all times. If needed his schedule could be modified to allow him to take study days in his room, rather than attending classes with the other children, depending upon his health and stamina. Scorpius hadn't listened to all of it, as he had grown rather annoyed.

Scorpius didn't like the idea of special treatment. He would rather like to be healthy, and have no illness to contend with, but that was out of the picture. He was glad at least that his father wanted him to attend Hogwarts at all. He hoped he would fair better than his parents expected. Today's incident did not bode well for Scorpius' hopes, however.

Scorpius smiled over at Al when he felt a small hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. Sometimes it seemed as if the boys could communicate without saying anything at all.

“Could Al stay the night?” Scorpius asked, longing most of all for the comfort of his best mate.

The adults agreed on it. The shreds of colorful wrapping paper, enchanted bows, long tails of ribbon, and boxes, and bags, had all been cleaned up by the house elves, and the adults had left the boys to themselves. They spent the evening and well into the night playing with Scorpius' new things, chattering about anything and everything—but mostly about Hogwarts. Al read them fantastic stories from one of Scorpius' favorite books, and they ended the night cuddled up together, gazing up at the stars that were enchanted to twinkle upon Scorpius' ceiling. It was a wonderful birthday after all, Scorpius thought, as he drifted off to sleep with his nose nuzzled up against Al's shoulder.

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-

Scorpius didn't tell anyone about the odd dreams he was having, though sometimes they frightened him to the point of waking panting, and in tears. He was eleven years old after all, and he wasn't a baby who should be crying over a bad dream. He hated to admit to himself that sometimes the dreams were so horrible that he wanted nothing more than to run to his parents bed, and crawl in between them, knowing that they would keep him safe.

He would be leaving for school soon, and his parents wouldn't be there. Sometimes it boggled his mind how badly he wanted to be independent, while in the next breath, craving the sort of security and attention that only a Mum and Dad could give. In those late hours of the night, when the dreams were so horrible that his skin was prickly, and no amount of covers could seem to warm him, he tried to focus on Al and imagine that his best mate was there with him. He imagined them attending Hogwarts together, being Sorted, attending meals, studying, watching Quidditch matches, and eventually he would calm down, and drift back to sleep upon those thoughts.

Al's birthday rolled around shortly after Scorpius'. They were less than a month apart: Al shared his birthday with Severus Snape. Both boys had heard plenty of tales about him. Scorpius held him in high regard, and was eager to meet his portrait at Hogwarts. Al on the other hand found this to be another wizard he wouldn't be able to live up to, along with that which had given him his first name: Albus Dumbledore. Scorpius was not sure where Al's lack of faith in himself came from, but he always did his best to reassure his friend that there was indeed something special in him. Scorpius assured Al that he would be a fine wizard in his own right, and then Scorpius would go on to make jokes about himself that he would probably faint when trying to cast a charm as simple as lumos. Al didn't seem to find the humor in such joking.

The winter faded into spring, and then summer, and the boys spent as much time together as their parents would allow. When Scorpius was visiting the Potters, James would often look down his nose and proclaim in the presence of all, that his parents ought not to let his baby brother spend so much time with a snake. He teased Al, calling him a traitor for being friends with the enemy, and enjoyed pointing out how awful and nasty Slytherins were. He liked to go on about how Al would be Sorted into Slytherin if he wasn't careful, letting Malfoy stink rub off on him like that, and was often lightly reprimanded by his father for it. Now and then Al's anger at his brother would boil over, though he did not show it overtly. Al would find sneaky ways to get back at his brother, and usually the only two who were aware of Al's involvement in such things at all would be Al, and Scorpius. It rather impressed Scorpius, and he wondered if Al ever recognized how he did posses Slythering traits. Thought Scorpius' favorite trait was not Al's cunning, but his loyalty. Scorpius knew he could never have hoped for a better friend than Al Potter.

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-

Finally the day was upon them. Smirky had fretted and fussed over Master Scorpius all morning, making sure his trunk was packed with everything he needed, then checking it multiple times just to make sure. He was sure to make sure Master Scorpius' school robes were perfect and without wrinkle or the tiniest speck of lint. Smirky clapped gleefully, exploding with excitement and compliments when Master Scorpius was finally dressed in his school robes. He looked so grown up, and handsome, Smirky proclaimed with tears rimming his large glassy eyes. Scorpius hugged the elf affectionately, to which the elf shrieked that Master Scorpius would wrinkle and dirty his robes! 

Scorpius was beside himself with nervousness and excitement, though he tried his best to keep it under wraps. He had failed at this a couple of times already, one by becoming so excited he spilled his breakfast onto his lap (luckily he was still in his pajamas at this time, or Smirky would hyperventilated in agony), and once again when the family was ready to take the floo to King's Cross Station. Draco had made the mistake of asking Scorpius if he wanted to do the honors. After taking a handful of floo powder, Scorpius had made them nearly late to Kings Cross by shouting the name of the station so quickly that he ran all of the words together, and the Malfoy's came out into a restaurant called 'King's Crustacean”. 

After arriving in the correct destination, Scorpius received hugs from his mother and father. Astoria seemed upset, and distracted, fussing over him endlessly, while Draco was stoic and seemed proud of his son. Scorpius once caught his father glancing towards the Potter's—more appropriately, at Mr. Potter. The two men shared a look, and then Scorpius' nerves eased when he caught sight of Al. 

The boys climbed onto the train and found and empty compartment. There they pressed their faces to the window, and waved goodbye to their parents standing on the receding platform.

“We're really off!” Scorpius clapped his hands together in delight. Al's nose gave a twitch.

“Why d'you smell like fish?”

“Never mind that, did you ask your Father about Slytherin?”

Al nodded. The boys drew away from the window and settled down into their seat, huddled close together.

“Yeah. He said not to worry if I was sorted into Slytherin, that I was named after a great Slytherin. I mean, I already knew it, but I guess he just wanted to remind me. He said that Severus Snape was one of the bravest men he ever knew.”

Al looked thoughtful, and a bit brooding. 

“I don't know if I'm brave, though.”

“You are!” Scoripus claimed. “Don't you remember when we were playing explorers in your cellar, and there was that MASSIVE spider...” Scorpius shuddered. “Well, who was the one to smash it? And with your bare hand! Now, if that isn't bravery, I don't know what is.”

Al gave a small smile.

“I don't think that's the kind of bravery Dad meant, but thanks.”

“You were brilliant,” Scorpius said, in a tone that told Al the case was closed on the issue.

 

The issue of the spider might have been closed, but the door to their compartment wasn't any longer. 

“There you are!” Rose chimed, and plopped down next to Al. “I thought Dad was going to make me miss the train. He kept going on and on about how I need to make sure and best you at everything,” She reached across Al, and pinched Scorpius' nose lightly. “I've nothing against you...but just the same,” she grinned. “I'll give you fair competition. Mum's already made sure I've studied my school books ahead of time. Have either of you?”

“Er...” Al rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I have,” Scorpius proclaimed, proudly. “Mother's always made sure I read a lot, and I like it anyway. She says...'Scorpius dearest',” Scorpius and Al giggled when Scorpius cast his voice up high in an exaggerated imitation of his mother. “Books are good for you mind, and they're not too exciting.”

“Well,” Rose snorted. “She's half right. But books can be quite exciting!”

“I know. Just don't tell her so, or she might take them away from me.” Scorpius got out of his seat buy sweets when the snack cart came by. Behind him he could hear Rose and Al. Rose was suggesting rather adamantly that Al read 'Hogwarts A History' and Al was sighing, most likely rolling his eyes, replying 'I know. Aunt 'Mione gave me a special edition for my birthday, with my full name embossed on the cover.”

“Merlin!” Scorpius returned to them with sweets, and dumped them onto the seat so they could rummage through them. “Must've cost your Aunt less galleons if she'd had them put just 'Al' don't you think?”

The three laughed as they pawed through the candy. Scorpius and Al shared a bag of Every Flavored Beans, while Rose tore open a chocolate frog.

“Oh, it's Uncle Harry again. I always get him.”

“You'd do better to find a Snape card!” Scorpius said, and then wrinkled his nose as he bit into a bean that tasted like floo powder. 

“Yeah, they're rare, aren't they?” Said Al, biting into a bean that tasted like garlic.

“Right,” Said Rose, as her chocolate frog jumped out of her freckled hands, and began hopping around the compartment. “The Snape card made after the Second War is very rare, and it wouldn't be in circulation anyway. There was so much backlash against it...” Rose's voice went muffled as she crawled under the seat, trying to grab the frog. “...that production was ceased. Even though Snape had been cleared and all, lots of people had other opinions of him, and nasty ones at that. Mum said the protests were horrible, and that people were simply mad. Of course, Mum had a petition going round for years to have Snape cards re-issued, and for the chocolate frog company to recognize him for his contributions to The Order and the war. Oh!”

Rose got to her feet and began dancing wildly around the compartment, causing the two boys to have fits of giggles and to spill the Every Flavored Beans all over the floor.

“It's gone down my shirt!”

“That's what you get Rosie, for going into such a boring lecture!” Al giggled, rolling around on the seat.

Rose pulled the squirming frog out of her shirt, and bit into it. She frowned as Scorpius pounced on Al, and the two boys began to wrestle around until they toppled out of the seat, and onto the compartment floor, where they continued to wrestle.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, you stop it! Your mother would have a fit if she knew how you were behaving. You'll be making yourself sick before we're even to Hogwarts!” Rose pried Scorpius off of Al by his ears.

“Owowow...” Scorpius cringed as his ears were twisted.

Al lay on the floor, clutching his sides and panting with a sporadic giggle fit.

“Aw Rosie, I'm alright!” He protested, cheeks flushed, and fair hair mussed. Rose licked her fingers, and began attempting to straighten out Scorpius' hair. “Hey! You're not my Mum—and you'll get chocolate in it!”

“Sit down,” Rose insisted, finishing her grooming of Scorpius, and then pushing him firmly into his seat. “Al, get up. You'll have Every Flavored Beans stuck to your school robes. If you don't do it by the count of three, I'll drag you up by your nose. One...”

“I'm up!” Al squeaked, tossing himself onto the seat next to Scorpius. “Spoil sport.”

“Didn't know our mothers were coming to school with us, did you?” Scorpius whispered to Al, as Rose undertook the task of cleaning up all the spilled candies.

-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-

After being rounded up by Hagrid the three of them went across the lake. Al and Scorp had been leaning over the side, peering into the depths of the lake, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Giant Squid. Rose was busy warning them that they'd fall over, and they didn't want to end up being waterlogged for the Sorting, did they?

Neither boy saw the Giant Squid, and they both managed to stay safe and dry inside the boat. 

While waiting outside the Great Hall to be Sorted, Scorpius could feel the nerves of every first-year there running wild, like some hum of electricity. Scorpius was not worried for his own Sorting, as he had no doubts where he would be placed. He was still a bit anxious about Al's Sorting, however. He glanced over at the other boy, who was rocking back and forth on his heels. Scorpius reached over, and took Al's hand, causing the boy to stop his anxious rocking.

“Slytherin?” Scorpius said quietly.

“Yes,” Al said, shoving his glasses up his nose with his free hand. Scorpius slid his fingers in between Al's.

“Don't be nervous. It'll be fine,” He assured Al.

“I'll never hear the end of it from James.”

“He's a toerag,” Scorpius said simply, as if that closed the case.

Al didn't say anything more, just pressed his lips together in a thin and serious line.

The two boys dropped their hands to their sides when they were approached by a pug-faced woman, who was dressed in black slacks that fit closely to her long, then legs, ended in point and rather clickity-clackity black boots. On top she was draped with a grey cape that buttoned up her neck to just below her chin.   
"Scorpius Malfoy," She stated, looking Scorpius up and down with a strange sort of look passing over her features: at first Scorpius had thought there was fondness there, though he wouldn't have known why, but very quickly a wavering sort of coldness appeared. "I knew your father," she said, and her lips twitched at the corners. "I promised him I'd look after you a bit, given your condition. I'm Professor Parkinson, Head of Slytherin House."  
Scoripus gave a sigh of irritation that his father had gotten someone to take special caution with him.  
Professor Parkinson drew a flask from inside her cape, and handed it to Scorpius.  
"It's a calming draught. Take it," She held up a hand when Scorpius answered his mouth to protest. "I don't take lip, or cheek, or 'no' for an answer when I don't want it."  
"But I'm not--"  
"You don't want to have landed yourself in detention before you've even been Sorted, do you?"  
"No," Scorpius mumbled. He accepted the flask, uncorked it, and down the potion. He half wished that her brew would make him throw up all over her spiky toed shoes.  
In front of the group of first-years, the doors to the Great Hall opened. Professor Parkinson left them to head to the front, and Al and Scorpius followed the lines of children into the hall. One after another the children were Sorted, while up above them the night sky flickered and flashed with diamond stars, and soft swirls of clouds swam through the late evening sky.  
Out of their trio Rose was called first. She approached the stool, climbed atop it, and the hat was placed onto her head. In only a moment the hat proclaimed; GRYFFINDOR! Al and Scorpius had expected it, and they watched her bounce happily over to the cheering red-and-gold table, and take her seat. 

More firsties went forward, and then it was Scorpius' turn. He felt a leap of excitement inside as he strode proudly forward, his nose stuck up a bit. He sat down on the stool, and before placing the hat atop his head, Headmistress McGonagall commented on how it looked as though she was seeing double: that he looked just like his father. She lowered the hat but it shouted out before it even touched his hair: SLYTHERIN!

Scorpius slid off the stool and very happily joined the Slytherin table. Other firsties and older students patted him on the back, and welcomed him to the House of Cunning, and Loyalty. 

Scorpius leaned upon his elbows and watched the Sorting continue, fidgeting anxiously, and never taking his grey-eyed gaze off of his best mate.

Finally Al Potter was called, and a hush fell over the hall. Al winced at the sudden silence, and his cheeks inflamed with embarassement. Scorpius watched as Al hesitantly stepped forward, and climbed onto the chair. The hat was lowered down over Al's messy black curls.

“Mmmhmmhmm...” The hat murmured. 

Scorpius squirmed.

“Interesting, very interesting,” It muttered.

“Why's it taking so long?” mumbled a girl next to him, who wore a shining Prefect's badge. “He's a Potter, no doubt where his lot end up.”

“Better be...Slytherin!” The hat called out, his voice seeming louder than ever in the well of silence that had become the Great Hall.

The Slytherin table was in such shock that no one had begun to clap or cheer, and the Gryffindors looked like a group of flounder, because their mouths were all opened in large O's of surprise. 

“You may go to your House, Albus,” Scorpius heard the Headmistress say.  
James had run up from the Gryffindor table.

“It was wrong!” Scorpius heard him say.

“Mr. Potter!” Headmistress McGonagall huffed. “The Sorting hat has more experience than you in such matters. If you please, take your seat. Both of you.”

Al and James stared at each other for a moment, and the Great Hall was still horribly silent. Finally Al slid off the stool, and shuffled towards the Slytherin table. Scorpius stood up on his chair, and began clapping. Across the room, Rose stood up as well, and clapped her hands together.

“Very good, Al!” She called, beaming. Her housemates passed her odd looks.

The rest of Slytherin House was staring at Scorpius as he clapped and welcomed his friend. A few sporadic claps broke out form others along the table as well, though the overwhelming feeling from everyone was confusion and awkwardness.

Headmistress McGonagall called the next student, and the Sorting resumed, though there was an odd tension in the Hall for the rest of the ceremony.

The gathered students waiting for their feast was in for one more surprise when Headmistress McGonagall announced the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for that year: Harry Potter.


End file.
